Let It Breathe
by Dragonflysoul
Summary: MacGyver finds himself lost in more ways than one. (Post MacGyver MacGyver) Featuring Papa Jack and an emotionally and physically exhausted MacGyver.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Let It Breathe

Author: dragonfly

Categories: Gen, angst, drama, h/c, emotional h/c, family feels, insecurity, Papa Jack

Warnings: Lots of feels and co-dependency

Summary: MacGyver finds himself lost in more ways than one. (Post MacGyver+MacGyver)

A/N: My version of what happened after the ep. I was going to start posting this last night, but I got rather depressed. *sigh*

*MACGYVER*

MacGyver stumbled and fell hard to his knees for the third time in the past twenty minutes. He was slowing them down. He was going to get them both killed.

"You need to rest."

Slumping against a rather prickly tree, hand curled protectively around his side, MacGyver looked up at the semi-blurry figure. He was only six years old, but the past day had shown and proven that he was much older and wiser than his years. "We need to keep moving."

Always had to keep moving.

"We will." But instead of trying to help him up like he had been, Elian sat down crossed-legged in front of him. "I won't let them get you again."

MacGyver's smile was weak, but his words were confident. "I know."

*MACGYVER*

 _/ "No, I don't think you do, man. You're gonna make yourself sick."_

 _MacGyver barely refrained from rolling his eyes._

" _Mac," Jack stressed for the nth time, "you need to rest. And_ _ **eat something**_ _, will ya?"_

" _Jack." MacGyver was running low on patience. "I'm fine and I'm not hungry. I'll eat later."_

" _You've been saying that for_ _ **two days,**_ _and you barely ate anything for days before that," Jack argued. "You can't keep going on like this, man."_

 _MacGyver sighed and tossed a wrench into the toolbox. Since leaving the Phoenix a week ago, he'd finally been able to work on some projects around the house that he'd been meaning to get to._

" _You're running."_

" _I'm right here, Jack."_

" _No, you're running from that big brain of yours, and from whatever you're trying_ _ **not**_ _to feel in that even bigger heart. You're afraid, man and that's al—"_

" _Listen, I'm_ _ **fine**_ _," MacGyver cut him off, meeting him in the eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you?"_

" _Until I believe it, Mac. Until I believe it." /_

*MACGYVER*

MacGyver startled awake at a light touch on his shoulder.

"I found some." Elian stood over him holding out a palm full of berries.

Carefully straightening from his slouched position, he ignored the ever present flare of pain and looked around them for signs of trouble.

"It's only us."

Shoulders dropping, he released a heavy breath and rubbed a hand down his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"Papa says when your body needs rest, it'll rest—even if you don't want it to because you're playing games on your ipad."

"Or running from very determined bad guys?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm assuming the same reasoning applies."

Snorting, MacGyver shook his head.

"Are they right?" Elian held out the palm full of berries again.

"Yes." He slumped back against the tree. "Good job." Taking the berries they had been looking for, he smashed them up with a few other "ingredients" he had acquired. He was hoping they would help him stay on his feet longer. But when he pressed the paste over the wound in his side, he was immediately hit with a wave of pain so intense it swallowed him whole and left him in darkness.

*MACGYVER*

"Did you die?"

Groaning, MacGyver rocked his head against the tree and towards the voice. Blinking open his eyes, it took a moment for his vision to focus, but when it did—sorta, he found Elian bent over, hands on his knees, staring intently at him.

"You looked like you died."

"Hmm…felt like it, too," he croaked weakly. Shifting just slightly, a cry escaped his lips and he had to swallow down the bile that had risen to the back of his throat. The paste was making the pain worse, but it would help with the bleeding and infection…for now. "How long was I out?" he asked as soon as breath would allow.

"Not long."

Steeling himself, MacGyver fixed the saturated makeshift bandage back over his side with increasingly unsteady hands. Then sagging a little more against the tree that was holding him upright, he blinked back the tears burning his eyes and threatening to spill. Pain consumed his body, as did exhaustion—but it was the doubt and regrets that were filling his heart that he struggled with even more.

They had escaped after a relatively short time in captivity, but they were still deep in militia occupied territory and his injuries were slowing down their progress of getting _out_. And he might…he might never get the chance to tell Jack that it wasn't his fault.

*MACGYVER*

/ "I'm right here, bud."

MacGyver startled and turned around to find Jack on the other side of the kitchen island. He blinked and stumbled back against the sink.

"Woah, hey," Jack held up a hand like he was trying to calm a cornered and hurt animal, "it's okay, you're safe. It's just us here, brother."

MacGyver could feel his heartbeat pick up as his mind raced. "I was—I was in the jungle."

"Yeah," Jack nodded patiently and cautiously moved closer, "you were. I found you and brought you home."

MacGyver furrowed his brow while hope and doubt clawed at his heart. "I-I don't remember. I don't remember getting out."

"Hey, now look at me." Jack stepped closer, tears and concern bright in his eyes. "I came for you, Mac, alright? I came for you just like you knew I would."

But when he reached out and squeezed MacGyver's shoulder…. /

*MACGYVER*

Jerking awake, MacGyver blinked owlishly at his surroundings. Disappointment filled him. He could still feel the reassuring pressure of Jack's hand, but it wasn't real. They weren't safe. He closed his eyes with a weighted sigh. They were still in the jungle. And he had passed out. Again.

Something cool suddenly pressed against his temple, but he was too tired to even be startled. "Elian?"

"This is how papa checks for fevers," he said, pulling his cheek away and stepping back. "Not the scientific method, but the _papa_ _method_. At least that's what papa says. It's supposed to be more effective."

Despite the level of miserable MacGyver was feeling, the kid could always get a smile out of him. He was incredible. He'd been abducted, shot at and chased through the jungle for nearly twenty hours now by very big, very angry men with guns. Yet, fear had rarely shown in his eyes and he never complained. The kid was three and a half feet of solid courage; clutching the unwavering belief that his father would come for him. He'd been reassuring him of such since the moment MacGyver had gotten himself abducted with him. On purpose. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"I think you have a fever."

"Yeah." MacGyver exhaled. "I'll be alright. 's not much further." That's what he kept telling himself; his internal mantra while he prayed that the militia had grown tired of chasing them and falling victim to his traps. Because in truth, he was nearing the end of his rope—mentally, physically and emotionally thanks to his injuries and fever. Elian was right, he needed the rest, but every moment he did put them in more danger.

"Elian…if ever you can't wake me—"

"I'm not leaving you, Agnes."

MacGyver grinned despite himself again. He'd stopped correcting the kid on his name hours ago. And for some reason, he insisted on calling him by his 'first' name. "You might have to, bud."

"You're my friend. Friends don't leave friends behind."

The weight on MacGyver's heart grew impossibly heavier. "No, no they do not." What he wouldn't give to take the past five weeks back. But for right now…right now he had to focus on moving forward. He had to get Elian home.

Using the tree behind him, he pulled himself to his feet. The pain in his head was only rivaled by the pain in his side, and he momentarily swayed before he regained his balance. He was tired of his world spinning; something that had started weeks before he had gotten injured.

He felt like Bozer's first Frankenstein creation that he sewed in the fifth grade. He hadn't mastered the art yet and the poor thing had literally started coming apart at the seams.

"Agnes?"

Coughing into the crook of his arm, he noticed a heaviness to his chest that wasn't there before. "Yeah?" he croaked.

"Don't worry, papa will come soon."

MacGyver wanted to believe him—but his father was a high ranking diplomat, which was why Elian was taken in the first place. His bodyguards probably had him tucked safely away somewhere.

"Maybe your papa will come, too."

There must have been something in MacGyver eyes for the perceptive kid to pick up on.

"You don't have a papa?"

Not one that would trek through the jungle for him, or do anything Elian had boasted about his own father. He didn't even know where he was. Nobody did. MacGyver had done what he was trained to do if necessary: he disappeared. He had needed some time, some space to be certain that no one was pulling his strings…but ultimately, he realized too late; he had panicked. Jack had been right when he said he was running. He just didn't realize it until he landed himself in another country.

It had taken five weeks for him to find the words to start the conversation, but the letter he had written to Jack was still in his pocket. He had been on his way to send it out when he got a little…abducted.

"What about your mama?"

He shook his head, swallowing hard and suddenly feeling rather sorry for himself.

"You have no one that would come for you? Not a mama _or_ a papa?" The kid actually looked truly troubled for the first time since MacGyver had met him.

"I have a Jack." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but just as Elian had been picturing his father coming to their rescue, MacGyver had been picturing Jack; had even dreamed it.

"He'll come for you then?"

He considered the chances of that happening; of Jack actually finding him at a time when he needed him most—in the middle of a hostile land, a world away from home.

They haven't even spoken in over a month—and the way MacGyver had left, just left…it still weighed heavily on his heart. He hadn't been able to forgive himself. He didn't know if Jack ever could.

" _Will he?"_

MacGyver looked down at the boy. Statistically speaking, the odds alone of Jack finding them in there weren't in their favor. But also statistically speaking…Jack's spidey senses have never let him down. "Yeah." His voice was thick with the truth he had known in his heart all along. "He'll come."

.

.

.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Don't…" Blinking open his eyes, MacGyver found himself lying on his side under a large pile of ferns.

"I'm here, Agnes." The ferns over his head lifted.

He blinked again, unsure for a moment what was real and what wasn't. He had been dreaming again; dreaming of Jack getting him home. But this time, Jack had decided to walk away afterwards.

"Agnes?" Elian dropped to his knees and placed a small hand over his shoulder.

"Wh—" MacGyver swallowed back the emotions threatening to choke him. "What happened?"

"They were close." Worry creased his small brow. "Really close. You wouldn't get up."

"Hid me?" He hadn't found the strength yet to help remove his camouflage. He could have gotten the kid abducted again. "Elian—"

"Friends don't leave friends behind," he repeated.

The kid was as loyal as he was stubborn. "Okay," he relented reluctantly. "Alright." Placing his palm against the damp ground, MacGyver attempted to push himself up into a seated position. Only with Elian's help did he finally manage. The kid was wicked strong for his size.

Head spinning, he swayed. His side screamed, he was hot and cold at once and there was definitely an infection settling into his lungs—but he had to keep moving. It was the only way Elian would.

"Were you having a nightmare?"

Resting his face in his hand, MacGyver frowned. "Why?"

"You were calling for him; for your Jack. You didn't want him to go."

Grief flooded MacGyver's heart again at the memory. "I was just…." He sighed and washed a hand down his face. "…confused," he admitted miserably. His fever was playing wicked tricks with the fears he tried so hard to ignore.

"He'll come for you, your Jack. He'll come."

MacGyver nodded at his conviction.

But he couldn't help but wonder now if he would stay.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned in frustration. He was tired of this pain, tired of these doubts. And also, he felt like crap. Taking a deep breath, he did what he'd been doing since he was a child: he pushed down everything that hurt. "You hungry?"

Elian immediately straightened and held out his hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

Grin weak, but resolve strengthened, MacGyver took the offered hand and somehow managed to get to his feet again. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of roots and berries," he admitted, leaning on a large moss covered rock as he waited for his knees to lock and his head to stop spinning.

"The first thing I'm going to have when I get home is ice cream," Elian announced as they slowly started out again.

"Now _that_ sounds like a plan. What's your favorite flavor?"

Elian looked up at him with huge brown eyes and smiled. "Rocky Road."

Despite the pang he felt in his heart, MacGyver smiled back. "Mine too."

*MACGYVER*

It was a few hours and close calls later that Elian ran to his father and MacGyver slumped against the closest tree. His vision blurred, his legs shook, his body thrummed with pain…but for a moment nothing hurt as Jack pulled him into his arms. "Damn, it's good to see you, boy." His voice was rough and choked and MacGyver didn't protest when he held him a little tighter.

Closing his eyes, he held onto him just as tightly. L.A. was thousands of miles away, but suddenly, he was home. And just like that; the world stopped spinning. "Jack," he breathed brokenly into the older man's shoulder; _weeks_ of pain and uncertainty had weakened his thickly constructed walls.

"I'm here. I'm here, bud." Jack pressed his cheek against his temple. "You're throwing off some serious heatwaves there, hoss." He pulled away with a look of alarm. "Here, sit down and give that tree a break."

Far from ready to let go, MacGyver still did as he was told. Jack had come for him. He knew he would, but….

Looking on the verge of tears, Jack brushed his thumb across MacGyver's cheek. "You alright?"

Nodding, he tried to swallow down the rush of emotions he was hit with. "I…yeah." He realized his shaking had become more pronounced. "Jus—just tired," he understated, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, albeit a weak one.

Jack was already pulling up his shirt, searching for the source of the blood. MacGyver couldn't stop looking at him, studying his face—marveling at the fact that he was there, _really there_ after all of this time _,_ despite inherently knowing that he would be. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream. "You, uh, you came."

Jack narrowed his eyes on him, frown deepening. "That fever must be higher than I thought if you think anything could have stopped me." He brushed his thumb lightly across MacGyver's cheek again and shook his head, looking more worried than disappointed. "If you ever disappear on me like that again, brother, you and I are gonna have some words."

MacGyver felt his heart constrict. "Jack, I—"

"You used the _papa method_ ," Elian sounded pleased, looking down on them from his father's arms.

Jack raised his eyebrows at MacGyver. "I, what now?"

He hoped he wasn't blushing. "I'll explain later."

Jack looked at him sideways. "Will you really?"

"No."

Elian took a large bite from the power bar in his hand. "Your Jack?"

"Yeah." The corner of MacGyver's mouth quirked up tiredly. There was no hope that he wasn't blushing now. "He's my Jack."

Taking off his pack, Jack looked up at Elian again. "The one and only. Nice to meet you, by the way. I've heard only good things." He gave him a wink.

Elian smiled around a mouthful of food. "Likewise."

*MACGYVER*

"Hey, Mac." A cool, calloused hand cupped the side of his neck. "Come on, now. I need you to drink something for me."

MacGyver forced his blue eyes open. It took more effort than he cared to admit, and even more effort to keep them open. He was surprised to find the first aid kit lying out around him, and a fresh bandage on his side.

"You took a hell of a hit there, hoss." Jack's face was grim. "How much blood have you lost?

Furrowing his brow, MacGyver blinked. His brain was still trying to catch up.

"Mac?"

He must have fallen asleep while Jack was checking him over.

"Maaac." Fingers snapped in front of his face.

"Mhmm?"

Jack sighed. "I guess that answers that. I left that goo stuff there," he said, placing a bottle of water in his hand and gesturing at his side. "I'm assuming it's serving some sort of purpose…other than being disgusting."

MacGyver hummed softly in acknowledgment again, but let the water bottle rest in his lap. He wasn't sure he had the strength to lift it; even though it would probably taste amazing. Eyes dully scanning the area, he found Elian asleep in his father's arms. He wondered if his father knew of the unwavering faith his son had in him. He hoped.

"Mac?"

Everything seemed too surreal. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he'd last seen or spoken to Jack, and another lifetime that he and Elian had been trudging through the jungle. But now Jack was there and he was going to take him home…or maybe this was all just another fevered dream that he couldn't wake up from, and Elian had been taken, and Jack wasn't coming after all and….

MacGyver startled when a hand gripped the back of his neck.

"Easy there, brother."

Eyes squeezed shut; he realized then that he was gasping for air.

Jack brushed a calloused thumb across his cheek. "Let's slow that breathing down, alright?"

It took him a moment, but when he finally did he opened his eyes.

Sliding his hand to his shoulder, Jack smiled reassuringly. "There you are." He was still looking concerned, but there was something else in his eyes. Something Mac has seen for as long as he could remember there, but had never thought about it long enough to put a name to it. "You with me now, bud?"

It was love.

There was so much MacGyver wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell him, _explain_ —but the lump in his throat would only allow two words to pass. "With you."

*MACGYVER*

Jack finished packing up the supplies, but MacGyver had yet to touch the water or power bar he had given him. He could hardly keep his eyes open—especially since his panic attack; which Jack hadn't seen happen since they were in the sandbox, but the fingers he had hooked onto the bottom of Jack's tac vest didn't appear to be lacking any strength. Jack doubted he was aware he was even doing it, and that's not the only thing.

He kept catching them as they slid down his face: the tears. MacGyver would be mortified if he realized they were slipping free. He tended to keep his pain as hidden as possible. To be honest, Jack was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. He felt like he's lived with a hole inside himself for the past five weeks. And if he thought he could get away with it, he'd pull the kid into his arms and not let go until they were back in L.A.

Elian was still in Jacob's arms—looking more asleep than awake when Jacob walked over. "Dalton, I think we should move." The guy had snuck away from his protection detail and they had run into each other—both in search of their boys. One named Elian. One named Mac. And _both_ who had a penchant for attracting trouble.

Jack nodded in agreement as he steadied the hand MacGyver was finally attempting to bring the water up to his mouth with.

They were still too far from the Safe Zone and with Mac in the shape he was in…. The relief Jack had felt at finding them had been short lived. What he wouldn't give to have exfil waiting just around the corner for them. But he didn't have Phoenix resources, not anymore.

He pulled the bottle away when MacGyver started coughing. "Sorry, buddy, easy."

Curling an arm around his side with a grimace, MacGyver looked up at them with resignation in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving without you, Agnes."

Jack hitched his thumb back in Elian's direction. "What the kid said." He made a face. "Wait, _Agnes_?" He gave MacGyver an amused look, but MacGyver barely offered a weak grin in return.

Still kneeling in front of him, Jack looked up at the other half of their party. "Mind giving us a minute?"

Jacob nodded and taking Elian—who clearly had no intentions of leaving his father's arms, gave them some privacy.

Leaning in towards his partner, Jack spoke softly. "Now, I know that heart and head of yours are still all twisted up after learning the truth about your dad."

"Jack—"

"Let me finish," he said patiently, thumbing away some dirt and another tear from the younger man's cheek. "I know you're certainly not thinking clearly considering the shape you're in now. But, Mac…" Jack felt his own hot tears rush to the surface, "man, you gotta know by now that there isn't _anywhere_ you could go that I wouldn't follow."

He could tell the kid was struggling to put everything that's happened over the last few weeks, including all of the insecurities he tried to deny existed into that already overstuffed box in his head. He could also tell that he was failing—especially if the unchecked tears were anything to go by. Considering the emotional and physical hell he's been going through….

Everyone had their limits; even wunderkinds.

"You were right," he croaked softly, shoulders hunched from exhaustion and something else Jack didn't want to put a name to. "I was afraid." He glanced at Jack, tremors racking his body. "I was afraid…I was afraid that—"

"You were afraid that if _you_ didn't leave first, _I_ would," Jack finished for him gently.

Face scrunching up like he was in a whole new world of pain, MacGyver pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were trying to force his emotions back inside, back down deep.

He was still trying when Jack pulled him into his arms. "I promise you, kid…I _promise_ you that there's nothing that can happen, _nothing_ you can do that would _ever_ make me walk away from you, son," he swore. " _Nothing_."

Turning his face into Jack's shoulder, MacGyver wrapped his arms around him.

"You can't keep shovin' everything down, Mac." Jack cupped the back of his head, his own tears threatening to fall. "You gotta—you gotta let some of that hurt out to heal once in a while, man. You gotta let it breathe."

Fingers digging into his vest, MacGyver choked out his name.

It took a moment for the former delta to speak past the growing tightness in his throat. His boy was falling to pieces and all he had to hold him together was his arms. "Yeah, bud?" He ran his hand across trembling shoulders.

But after a moment's hesitation, MacGyver just shook his head. He was still holding back, still trying to push it down. But at least now he had something to hold onto again. And that something was Jack. They'd worry about the rest later. Jack just wished he could take away his boy's pain; just absorb it into his own body. _That_ would be his superpower if he could choose.

" 's okay." Closing his eyes, he did what he'd been wanting to do since MacGyver had learned the truth about his father: he held him. Just held him. "I got you, brother," he promised, praying that that would be enough, praying that MacGyver would eventually find his way back to them, and himself. "I got you."

.

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tbc


	3. Chapter 3

****A/N:**** Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and favorited! I appreciate it so very much. Out of 5 - this may be a Level Four Tissue Rating. (Thanks to fanotheboyz for the tissue rating suggestion. lol) I really hope you enjoy.

 **CHAPTER THREE**

/ "Well, how's it feel?" Jack asked, opening the door for him.

Arm held protectively against his injured side, MacGyver stepped inside. "What?"

"Being home, dummy."

A small grin met MacGyver's lips as he looked around. It was like Bozer hadn't moved a thing. His bike was still sitting in the corner and the house smelled like Bozer had been cooking his favorite meal. He was home. Finally home. "Good," he answered thickly. "Really good."

Jack nodded and set MacGyver's bag on the floor next to the kitchen island. "Glad to hear, but you still look like crap, mi amigo; so, it's bed for you."

MacGyver snorted lightly. It would be awhile before Jack eased up on the mother henning.

"Come on, now." Jack placed a hand over his back and started guiding him towards his room. "I know for a fact that Bozer's been fluffing your pillows preparing for this very moment; so they're good and ready for that big ole' head of yours."

"When will he be back?" MacGyver asked around a yawn. He realized he was moving ridiculously slow—he still had a lot of recovering to do, but Jack didn't rush him.

"Few hours; just enough time for you to get some winks in and work up an appetite."

MacGyver really wanted to talk to Jack, but he's hardly been awake and cognizant long enough to do so. Even now, he barely registered Jack taking off his shoes for him and helping him into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

When he woke, his father was standing over him. Pulse speeding up, MacGyver's eyes automatically darted around in search of his overwatch.

"Hi, son."

Heart filling with dread, he stiffly raised himself up on his elbows. He didn't need this. He didn't have the energy to talk with his father now, especially when he was feeling so vulnerable. "What are you doing here?" He never showed up before when he was hurt. He never showed any interest in his wellbeing at all. He only cared about manipulating him to do his bidding; something he's been doing most of his life, apparently. Again, he found himself looking for Jack. He was surprised he let his father in.

"I just thought I'd come by and tie up some loose ends."

"Wha—" MacGyver furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I'm not following."

James moved closer. "That's the problem, son. You never were too smart."

Before MacGyver could react, his father pressed a pillow over his face. /

*MACGYVER*

He nearly fell from his shoulder when he woke up fighting. Tightening his hold, Jack quickly eased him to the ground. "Easy, man, take it easy. It's just me."

But MacGyver was pushing at him, choking and coughing. Pulling him into a seated position when he realized what was happening, Jack started pounding on his back; hoping to help dislodge the gunk lodged in his airway. Finally, after one painfully hard cough, he spat mucus onto the ground and slumped back against Jack's chest, heaving.

"I'm not gonna lie, Angus," Jack said, crinkling his nose as he held MacGyver securely against him. "That was, well, that was gross."

Once his breathing had evened out somewhat, MacGyver looked up at him. "Never been—" he took a wheezy breath, "—so glad to _not_ be home."

Jack frowned and brushed a hand through the blonde hair. "Nightmare?"

Swallowing, MacGyver nodded and relaxed more into him. He had fallen asleep while Jack was holding him, and had stayed that way when he placed him over his shoulder. Jack didn't know if it was the gunk in his airway or the nightmare that had ultimately woken him, but he wished he could have slept longer. He looked awful.

Finally leaving his father's arms, Elian came over with a look of concern on his face and knelt next to them. He placed a small hand over MacGyver's arm. "Agnes doesn't like it when he sleeps."

"Well, I see some things haven't changed," Jack quipped lightly, but his frown returned when MacGyver didn't banter back. Still leaning heavily against him, he looked to be lost in thought…and not a good one.

"Dalton…" Jacob was standing guard over them, eyes scanning their surroundings. Noticing how exposed they were in their current position, Jack gave the other man a nod.

"Alright, Mac, let me see that wound of yours before we get movin' again." He started tugging up his shirt. "I don't think I did it any favors carrying you like that, but even your scrawny ass was too heavy to carry like the damsel in distress you are." He clenched his jaw when he saw that it was bleeding again. " s' all right," he told himself. "It's just letting us know it's still there."

"I coulda told you that," MacGyver croaked, pushing his hand away weakly and attempting to sit up on his own. "We can't stay here."

"You read our minds, brother." Jack stood and carefully helped him up; his arm automatically sliding around his waist to keep him that way.

Leaning into him, MacGyver gripped the material over his shoulder and back. The kid was in rough shape. There was a hell of an infection settling into his wound and his lungs, and when he met Jack's eyes… Jack didn't much like what he saw there. "You hangin' in there, bud?" He frowned at the ever present tremors he could feel running through him.

Dropping his gaze, MacGyver nodded, but gripped the fabric over Jack's shoulder tighter as if he again wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"Come on, Agnes." Elian tugged on his belt loop. "I can almost taste that ice cream."

Looking down at him, MacGyver managed the barest of grins. "Can't wait, pal."

But Jack could see behind that grin, and he knew why MacGyver hadn't let go of his vest. He narrowed his eyes on him. "What are you thinking in that head of yours, Mac?" he asked as Elian took the lead with his father.

MacGyver watched his new friend for a long moment before answering a bit soft and a lot sad, "Home, Jack. I'm thinking I want to go home."

Jack nodded. It was something he's been wanting to hear for over a month. He should be relieved. He should be happy to hear what he'd been hoping and assuming at this point.

But instead, his gut screamed.

*MACGYVER*

He did the calculations. At the rate his body was weakening and his lungs were filling with fluid; he soon wouldn't have the strength to clear his airway. He wouldn't have the strength to breathe. MacGyver wasn't sure how much further he could go, but it was becoming clear that home might very well be beyond that.

He couldn't help but think of how endless the jungle seemed—especially as night started to fall. He'd think they were walking in circles if he didn't know Jack better. But he did. And he didn't know how he could have feared that he'd ever walk away.

He truly didn't realize just how lost he'd been until Jack found him.

When he stumbled, Jack hefted him up higher against his side. "I got you, brother. Just keep puttin' one foot in front of the other. I swear you're nothing but skin and bones. We gotta get you back to Bozer so he can fatten you up."

He was rambling. He did that when he was worried.

"Waffles," MacGyver murmured drowsily, head dropping onto Jack's shoulder. He'd been hungry for them for weeks.

Jack tightened the hold he had around his waist. "That would just be the appetizer, my friend. You know Bozer will go all out. I'm talkin' a twenty course meal."

He wasn't sure that was actually a thing, but if it was, Bozer could pull it off. "Mad?"

"Dalton, there's a decent spot over here," Jacob called from ahead, Elian asleep again in his arms.

Jack nodded and headed them in that direction. "Bozer, mad? Nah, he just wants his puppy back."

They came upon a small nook where MacGyver suspected they were planning to tuck in for the night. They've only had one close call since Jack and Jacob had found them, but it was best to err on the side of caution. MacGyver tried but failed to bite back a cry as Jack slowly lowered him to the ground. Suddenly feeling intensely cold again, he was actually grateful Jack followed him down and wrapped his arms around him.

As worried as he was that he wasn't going to make it out of there, there was something that worried MacGyver even more. Swallowing down another cough and barely registering that he was basically listless in Jack's arms, he tipped his head back on his shoulder and asked, "You?"

Sighing, Jack looked down at him. "I'm not mad, Mac," he told him dejectedly. "I was never mad."

No, it was much worse than that. MacGyver had hurt him…and scared him. "'m sorry," he whispered, hating that he was just like his father, hating that he had abandoned the people that loved him most.

Jack gently brushed a thumb across MacGyver's cheek. He kept doing that. "I know you are, bud."

"Not your fault." He needed him to know that—to have the peace that he never would, even now.

Jack frowned at him, then looked even sadder. "Mac, you runnin' off on your little sabbatical like you did does _not_ make you your father."

He could read him so well. Always could. Still, MacGyver opened his mouth to argue.

And Jack raised a warning eyebrow. " _End_ of discussion, brother."

MacGyver's vision blurred further. God, he had missed him. He might have said as much if he wasn't hit by a violent round of coughing. Chest aching and still wheezing, he felt Jack pull him in closer and brush a hand through his hair.

"You don't happen to have anything you can whip up for that cough of yours, do you?"

Eyes drifting closed, MacGyver hummed. "W-wish I did," he rasped into the older man's chest. He could faintly hear his heartbeat. The comfort it offered started to lull him to sleep.

"Yeah, me too."

MacGyver forced his eyes back open at the raw helplessness he heard in Jack's voice and looked up at him. And suddenly, just as he hoped Jacob knew how Elian felt about him, he _needed_ Jack to know—and he needed him to know now _..._ "It wasn't love," he found himself saying what he'd been dreading to for so long.

Jack tilted his head with a look of uncertainty. "What wasn't, bud?" He moved to lie him down, but MacGyver somehow mustered the strength to latch onto his vest. "No, w-wait."

Jack stopped, concern deepening the lines across his forehead as he waited for him to continue.

"H-he never cared about me, you know," he explained with painful acceptance. "The manipulating, the keeping me close—it was just a way to assuage his guilt." A few coughs took him by surprise, but as soon as he could, he confided roughly, "It wasn't about love. Not love."

*MACGYVER*

"Mac—"

"I've been shot, kidnapped, poisoned…and he never, he never once sh-showed up." MacGyver's distress was making his coughing worse.

"Easy, Mac, just take it easy," Jack tried to cajole; grimacing at the sound of his tortured breaths.

MacGyver shook his head, determined to get what he wanted to out. "He never reached out. _Never_ ; even when he knew I was hurt. He m-might have even been the reason.…"

His eyes were full of a pain that Jack wasn't sure he'd ever be completely free of. Not for the first time, he cursed his father's name. "Listen, Mac—"

"But as much as it hurts," he cut him off, "and as much as I hate what he did, and how he makes me feel; I can't—I can't bring myself to hate him."

"Well, bud," Jack smiled kindly down at him. "There's nothing wrong with that. He's—"

"He gave me you." MacGyver tightened his grip on Jack's vest and exhaled shakily with a small smile. "He gave me you, Jack."

Jack found himself at a loss for words for a moment as intense blue eyes pierced his.

"You're always there. Y-you always find me."

"Where you go, I go," he vowed thickly, finally finding his voice.

Nodding, MacGyver swallowed hard. "R-Riley and Boz might be right about that w-whole codependency thing," he croaked out between coughs.

"Please, like they can talk," Jack teased, throat tight and heart aching. "They're a mess without you, brother."

Despite the tears in their eyes, they both smiled.

"You know I love ya, kid." Jack brushed a tear away as it carved a worn path down MacGyver's cheek. "You know that. You gotta know that."

"I—" But whatever MacGyver was going to say was cut off by a harsh cough, then another and another. "Ja—" His fingers dug into Jack's vest.

"Mac? Hey come on, man, breathe."

Jack held onto him while he coughed and fought for breath. He held onto him after pounding on his back no longer helped. "Mac, stay with me, man. Stay with me."

"Agnes?"

"Stay here, Eli."

He held onto him as breath refused to come, and panicked blue eyes drifted closed. "Mac?"

—as weak fingers that could do anything, _anything_ slid from his vest. "Mac!"

"Dalton, is there...?"

Shaking his head and pulling MacGyver in closer, Jack started to rock. "Come on, kid, don't," he choked, "don't you do this to me."

Eyes squeezed shut as he prayed, he held onto him through the tears and crippling helplessness. "Come on, Mac, _please._ You gotta—you gotta breathe. You gotta breathe for me, man, you gotta breathe, you gotta breathe…."

Face wet, heart in pieces, he was still holding onto him when the _thump thump thump_ of Matty's salvation sounded from above.

.

.

.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so, so much for reading and commenting! I hope you enjoy.**

 **EPILOGUE**

MacGyver slid his hand over the deck railing; feeling every nick and groove. He knew them by heart. He's worried them countless times over the years.

" _Hey Mac, you want these with or without blueberries?_ " Bozer's voice came over the homemade walkie-talkie he insisted MacGyver carry with him. He's gotten dizzy a few times and has ended up on the floor. And when you're as weak as he's been….

His smile was tired, but true as he spoke into the device. "Why don't you surprise me, Boz."

" _With, it is!"_

MacGyver had offered to help him prepare for his Welcome Home "Feast," but he was firmly told that he wasn't allowed to do anything but…well, breathe. Thankfully, doing so was much easier these days.

He barely remembered a thing from his first couple of days in the hospital before he was strong enough to be transferred to one in L.A.—mainly just a nervous and hovering Jack and a weight on his chest that wouldn't ease. The helicopter ride Matty had sent for them was a complete blank. Perfect timing as usual, he was beginning to think she was some sort of mage.

" _You need a blanket out there, man?"_ Speaking of hovering.

"Nah, I'm good."

Matty _baked_ for him and Riley… He was fairly certain she implanted a GPS tracker into his arm while he was sleeping. He rubbed the suspecting spot behind his bicep before sliding his hand over the railing again.

He didn't feel he deserved such attention, but it felt good to be home.

Unfortunately, that also put him within arm's reach of his father. He had come to the hospital in L.A. while he was sleeping, but Jack had sent him away; wanting to leave the choice to see him up to MacGyver. It was a decision he still hasn't reached. And he didn't know why James was bothering now—after all these years. But when, and if, he ever did decide to face his father, he knew he didn't have to do it alone.

" _What about a drink? You need a drink out there?"_

Amused, MacGyver replied, "I've got one, Boz."

" _Alright, just checking. Don't want my boy to be parched."_

"I'm fine," he assured, and not for the first time. "Thank you."

He knew he should sit down. He could feel his legs starting to shake, but he couldn't stop taking in the view. He could map out the buildings as easily as he could the stars. The L.A. skyline was practically a part of him. He's sought solace in its presence countless times over the years. He could say the same about some of the people in his life. Some he owed a great deal to.

His phone beeped indicating he had a voicemail. Pulling it out of his pocket, he smiled as he listened.

" _Agnes, papa said I can have as much ice cream as I want when I visit you next week. I suspect there are actually stipulations, but I don't intend to let on. Tell your Jack he can come too, if he wants."_

"That Elian?"

MacGyver startled and turned around to find Jack coming up the steps. He waved his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. "Voicemail. You're invited to our ice cream party."

"Sweet." Jack plopped himself down onto one of the chairs and indicated for MacGyver to join him. "I didn't get the chance to thank him for taking care of my boy."

Snorting, MacGyver slowly made his way over to him on increasingly unsteady legs. "Well, you can buy him an ice cream cone." He really shouldn't have been standing for so long.

"Sure will, _with_ sprinkles," Jack declared, watching him closely. "Do I need to come over there and get you?"

"Nah, I can make it." He gave it another thought. "I think."

"If you end up on the floor again, Bozer will have my ass." He looked like he was fighting every instinct in him not to take his elbow and help him the rest of the way. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it. In fact, that was the only way MacGyver got around in the hospital. "Take your meds?"

He rolled his eyes as he finally took a seat. "Yes, Jack." He sunk into the chair with a heavy sigh. He was still sore and frustratingly weak. But he was alive.

"Even the gross one?"

"Yes, even the gross one." Coughing into the crook of his arm, he tried to ignore the chill that raced across his skin despite the warmth in the air.

Jack caught the slight shiver. "Wanna go in?"

Shaking his head, he reached for the glass of water that was sitting on the stand between them and took a sip. It would be awhile before he felt like himself again; physically…and all the other ways. But he was done hiding. "Bozer is making waffles."

"I thought he was making lasagna."

MacGyver smirked. "Oh, he's making that, too."

Jack raised his eyebrows, amusement clear on his face. "Well, maybe if you had bothered to eat while you were bringing all those people fresh water, he wouldn't have to try so hard to fatten you up."

"I ate," MacGyver returned defensively. And never mind he's been sick. "Actually, there was this fruit that wasn't even from the…" he trailed off as something occurred to him. "Wait." He narrowed his eyes on Jack who was trying way too hard to look innocent. "You were there."

"I was…" Jack was looking everywhere but at him. "…in the area," he conceded.

MacGyver closed his eyes. "That's how you found us so easily."

"Oh, nothing about it was easy," the former delta grumbled.

"How long?"

"About three weeks." It had only taken him two weeks to find him. "I settled in a few klicks to the west."

"And the fruit?"

Jack shrugged a shoulder. "Paid a kid."

MacGyver was legitimately at a loss for words. He didn't know if he should be mad, or grateful. Jack was there. He was there nearly the whole time; watching over him while trying to respect the space he sought. _And_ he made sure he ate. Not to mention, he had left the Phoenix to find him. When the words finally came, he knew they wouldn't be enough, but he said them anyway. "Thank you."

Jack waved him off. "Just promise me one thing."

MacGyver was already holding up a hand as if making a solemn vow. "No more _sabbaticals_." It was a discussion they've already had. At length.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Unless?"

" _Unless_ ," he continued easily, having already repeated the promise multiple times, "I take you with me."

"See, I knew you were the smart one." Jack winked at him. "But, oh hey, for the love of God, Mac, _please_ —no more jungles. Next time pick a nice tropical island, or something, will ya?"

MacGyver laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

*MACGYVER*

He looked better; like a hundred, thousand times better than he had since their little jungle tour that scared a good ten years off of Jack's life, but he still had a long way to go before he was back to being Mac, before he was back with them completely. He was still too thin, still too pale and weak, and still too lost in his head. Jack also knew—he could just tell, that he was also still holding onto regrets that he had no business holding on to. Luckily, Jack could help with just about all of those; and where he couldn't, Bozer's cookin' would.

"Oh yeah, here." Pulling it out of his back pocket, he tapped MacGyver on the shoulder with it.

"I was wondering what happened to that." He took the letter. "You—" He hesitated when he realized. "You read it, didn't you."

Jack made a face. "Of course, I read it."

The kid actually blushed. "I, uh…" He scratched his temple self-consciously. "I don't know how I ever could have doubted you, man. I'm sorry."

Jack gave him a sage look.

MacGyver frowned. "What?"

" **One** : I forgive you. And **B** : —"

MacGyver crinkled his brow and opened his mouth as if to correct him, but Jack continued.

"—I don't think you were doubting me nearly as much as you were doubting yourself, kiddo."

Clenching his jaw, he looked away.

"If you think you're nothing more than paperclips and Hail Marys to us, you're wrong."

"Jack, I don't think that."

"Well, maybe not anymore. But tell me, what did you doubt more? That I'd come for you, or that you were worth it?"

Jack could see the tears well up in his eyes. They haven't fallen unchecked since that day in the jungle, but they were never far from the surface these days. All of MacGyver's walls had been shattered with the truth about his father. While he fought hard to build them back up, Jack fought hard to convince him to at least put in a few windows this time.

"I feel like an idiot." His voice was hoarse and choked with shame.

"An idiot? No," Jack assured gently, leaning in towards his partner. "But you _are_ human, brother. What'd I tell you back there, hmm?"

MacGyver feigned ignorance while picking at something invisible on his pant leg. "I dunno, something about breathing."

Jack shook his head with a fond smile.

"You were very adamant about that."

"Yeah, well I tend to like my geniuses that way."

MacGyver smiled, but it was mostly sad.

"Mac?"

Swallowing hard, he shook his head and continued to focus on an imaginary something on his pant leg.

"Come on, man; we just went over this." Habits were hard to break, but Jack was nothing if not persistent. "Spit it out."

"I just," he sighed and laughed humorlessly as he scratched self-consciously again at his temple. "I don't know, it…it scares me, I guess."

Chest tightening, Jack furrowed his brow. "What does?" He thought he was going to have to press him to answer again when he finally did…

"How much I depend on you," he admitted thickly. "I, uh, I don't—" He took a shaky breath. "I don't know what I'd do without you, man." Blue eyes full of emotion met his, saying even more than his words could. "Really."

Swallowing the sizable rock that suddenly lodged itself in the back of his throat, Jack nodded. "Likewise, brother, likewise."

They were some seriously co-dependent dudes. And he wouldn't have it any other way. "And let's not forget," he added, shaking a finger, "without me, you wouldn't have that deep appreciation for Bruce Willis that you have today."

"Not to mention my vast knowledge of all things Texas."

Profoundly agreeing, Jack pointed a finger at him and nodded.

A true smile on his lips now, MacGyver closed his eyes and laid his head back against the chair. He still tiredly easily, but at least he was home now. Finally. Watching him, Jack felt like it was his turn for a confession.

"Just for the record, Mac," he confided softly, "that day…that day I met you was the best damn day of my life, brother. Your father had a hand in introducing us, but me staying was all you. I stayed _for you._ "

MacGyver rocked his head towards him and opened his eyes.

"And, I uh…I just wanted to let you know that, well, you'll always be my boy."

It was a direct response to how MacGyver had signed his letter:

 _Still your boy, (I hope.)_

 _Mac_

"Alright?" He refused to break eye contact until MacGyver nodded. Returning the gesture then, Jack slid back in his chair and closed his own eyes. "You can say it, you know."

MacGyver's voice was hoarse, but not from illness. "What?"

"That you love me. I mean, I already said it, but I'll say it again: I love you, Mac," he repeated with slight exaggeration.

He heard MacGyver huff a laugh before a comfortable silence fell between them. Then a few moments later, "I love you too, big guy," he returned sincerely. "I love you, too."

Jack opened one eye to peek over at him and grinned at what he saw. MacGyver's eyes were closed and there was a look of peace about him that Jack hadn't seen in far too long. His boy still had a long way back to himself, but he was definitely on his way; and Jack was going to be there right beside him.

"I know you're looking at me," MacGyver muttered without opening his eyes. "Stop it."

Jack immediately shut his. "No, I'm not, shut up."

"You shut up."

" _You_ shut up."

5


End file.
